Flare
by MockingbirdSoul
Summary: She was carving out her own path in the sky and reaching for the sun. Uraraka/Bakugou. [Chapter 3 Updated]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _My Hero Academia_ the manga, the anime, or any other related projects for the series.

Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka

Genres: Romance, Humor

Rating (by chapter): K.

I wanted this to be a one-shot, but now it has chapters. Blehhh. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Defused**

* * *

He wasn't folded in on himself, wearing a typical scowl or radiating sullen menace.

He wasn't yelling, picking fights or glaring down every object in his path with those fiery eyes that rivaled the explosions he was so quick to set off.

He was laying on her floor, curled up on his right side with an arm tucked under his head, a single earbud plugged in his ear while the speakers crackled out whatever dissonant melody he'd dozed off to. Leave it to Bakugou to be lulled to sleep by thrash metal.

Ochako smiled fondly at that, toying with the wire dangling off the edge of his jaw. She lay on her stomach next to him, propped on her elbows with a supporting palm under her chin as she gazed down at him.

Sheets of unfinished homework and a now tepid cup of tea was long forgotten on her work desk, abandoned in favor of the chance to observe him in this rare state of peace. Granted, it wasn't the first time this had happened, in her dorm, no less. For as often as he vocalized just how much he'd make her regret it if she ever fell asleep during their study sessions, he had no issue snoozing away himself.

Idly, she swept her eyes over him, bemused by how different Bakugou looked when he was asleep. The angry slant of his brows was leveled out, lips relaxed out of the frown they were always pressed into, his whole form slack and unalert.

Cocking her head, she lifted two fingers to prod at the bridge of his nose, watching in amusement as the space there crinkled at the disturbance, a low, upset growl following it. Ochako likened the reaction to that of a sleeping bear – a comparison whose comedic value dissolved when she realized that pestering him further would brook a scenario just as hazardous.

She withdrew her fingers, and, after a split-second contemplation, carefully carded the spiked bangs away from his forehead. He let out another small noise, but she could feel the tension there subside beneath her fingertips. His brow smoothed out again, and his breathing evened.

Ochako pulled back with a soft smile – one that tapered off with degrees of uncertainty, as if often did whenever it came to…this.

It was true that he had changed in the past few months, if only subtly. But then, change was the only thing subtle about him, wasn't it? He was still loud, still rude, still rough around the edges. He and Deku still had their issues, but things had calmed down between the two of them. He had calmed down, too. She was glad for them.

Glad for him.

Her hand hovered over his bangs before she gently slid it into his ash blond hair. Bakugou didn't stir at her touch. His soft snores could barely be heard over the distorted track buzzing from his earbuds. She dimly wondered whether he unconsciously knew it was her by the plush pads of her fingers skimming along his scalp. She wondered what Bakugou dreamed of, and whether he would tell her if she ever asked him.

Almost unthinkingly, Ochako dropped a kiss atop the crown of his head before rolling over to lay on her back, half-lidded brown eyes scaling up to the stale-colored ceiling, wishing for the sky beyond it.

* * *

 _Why do I do this to myself?_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own _My Hero Academia_ the manga, the anime, or any other related works for the series.

Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka – guest starring Horn Buddies, Kirishima and Ashido.

Genres: Romance, Humor

Rating: T for coarse language.

This takes place before the events of the first chapter. Basically, this fic doesn't flow chronologically, but will alternate between the past and present with each chapter – for no other reason than because I tend to unnecessarily complicate things. Enjoy!

(No, I have no idea what I'm doing. Ever.)

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Torched**

* * *

As with most things, it had started out harmless and completely unremarkable.

They were living in close quarters now, their rooms stationed on the same floor. There were little moments when they would meet each other in the halls – heading down the same way for meal times, in opposite directions, with friends in tow or just the two of them. On the latter occasion, he would respond to her greeting smiles with curt nods or grunts instead of flat out ignoring her.

Then came the group project that had paired the two of them along with Iida and Jirou for their Heroic Law course. Their task had been to setup a mock-trial to demonstrate their understanding of public and criminal offenses, and their sentencing procedures.

Planning out the trial and a script for their argument had been simple enough. The real challenge had been deciding on which one of them was to play the offender. Jirou had already been juggling two roles as the plaintiff and jury, and Iida had been more suitable for the position of judge (not to mention neither Ochako or Jirou could manage a straight face with his over-the-top criminal persona).

So, the position had narrowed to Ochako and Bakugou, and he hadn't taken kindly to her offhanded comment about him already looking the part. His outburst had only earned corroborating opinions from Iida and Jirou, as well as a second strike from the librarian.

In the interest of their grade – and their well-beings – Ochako had taken up the role. Bakugou had a better grasp of civil law than she did anyway, and made a pretty kickass prosecutor. She had told him so during a rehearsal in her room (it hadn't taken long to earn that third strike), in earnest and as an apology for her earlier remark.

"Damn straight," he had snapped, but with less bite than before.

Iida and Jirou had left earlier that day, having finished their individual practice runs for their presentation. Since Ochako and Bakugou had the lengthier part to play, they had been left behind to perfect their mini-interrogation.

"The fuck's wrong with your face?"

"Hmm? Gah!"

Ochako had rubbed the sore spot between her brows where he had jabbed his fingers. Despite his roughness, she had met him with a good-natured grin, undaunted by the stern glare he was pinning her with.

"What? I was just gettin' into the part. Gotta channel the hard-boiled, intimidating criminal!"

"You're playing a petty-ass thief busted for larceny and unlawful use of a duplication quirk," he had retorted, arms folded and impatiently tapping their rolled-up script against his bicep. "If that ain't lame enough, you think sittin' there and looking constipated is gonna intimidate anyone?"

"I mean, doesn't it work for you?"

Iida – who had left his folder behind on accident – had been the one to rescue Ochako from the headlock Bakugou had placed her in. Otherwise, it would have taken her _at least_ a few more seconds to free herself.

Maybe not _totally_ harmless.

Speaking of which, on the battlefield, it was near impossible for them to miss each other. Ochako often faced off against Ashido at Gym Gamma to hone her offensive technique, and their resident Alien Queen had the best reflexes out of all the girls in their sparring circle to help her.

In contrast, Bakugou only ever regularly trained with Kirishima. If not accompanied by his redheaded partner, he mostly kept to himself unless provoked.

Perhaps it had been because the four of them were the only ones present at the training grounds that afternoon, but Ochako hadn't been able to keep her focus on Ashido. Her attention had kept wandering to the intense match raging on between the two boys.

It had been basic hand-to-hand, a quirkless scrimmage. No bursts of light, plumes of smoke, or sparks flickering in her periphery. No booming ripples or clashes of solidified skin resonating in the air.

It had just been the force of their fists, the momentum of their limbs, and the strength of their spirits. The passion, the fierceness, the raw drive to win blazing so bright in his eyes and his smile at the height of their fight at the Sports Festival that hadn't been able to look away.

Thankfully, Ashido's perfectly-timed uppercut to her jaw had brought her back down from the clouds.

At some point, Kirishima had slipped up and delivered a hardened hook that had grazed the side of Bakugou's face. It had earned him a crude earful – one he took in the same carefree stride as he did with any other kind of tantrum his buddy pulled – but Bakugou had seemed more pissed about the use of his quirk than the jagged line of red carved into his cheek.

Ochako and Ashido had been taking a quick break on the benches, entertaining themselves with the squabble across from them. Somewhere in the momentary suspension of activity, Ashido had what she continued to call to this day 'a stroke of genius.'

"Hey, Bakugou!" She had called out, bouncing to her feet with renewed energy. "Switch partners with me!"

Ochako – who had nearly choked on her sports drink – and Kirishima had let out a collective _"Huh?"_ while Bakugou had turned his aggravation on their pink classmate. Ochako hadn't missed the brief flicker of his scarlet gaze to where she had been sitting.

"The hell for, Raccoon Eyes?" He had demanded.

"Uraraka here's having trouble keeping her eyes off you boys," Ashido had explained, blithely ignoring the mortified squawk from her partner. "And you two have already fought before, so facing off now's a great way to see how you've improved. Look alive, Kirishima!"

"Hey, wai –!"

The sound of the redhead's strangled cry as Ashido pounced on him had resounded across the training grounds, but Ochako had barely any time to wince for the poor boy before Bakugou's attention riveted to her. Astonishingly, he had paid no heed to the fact that his partner had just been abducted, and had instead lobbed a razor-eyed look in her direction.

"Well?" He had barked, startling her. "You just gonna sit there, or you gonna come at me?"

"Uh, s-sure." Her response had been wobbly – more out of surprise than fear – as she bolted to her feet, treading across the training mats to stand at a distance from him.

"You better not fucking slack, Uraraka," he had warned lowly, taking on a defensive stance.

With no shortage of perplexity, Ochako had drawn in a calming breath and, in turn, steeled herself.

What Ashido had said was true, to a point. Point-blank explosions to her face aside, her main struggle from her first fight with Bakugou had been the difference in speed and stamina. A rematch was a terrific way to tell how she measured up against him after her internships under Gunhead and Ryukyu.

If the four times out of five that he had thrown her to the ground had been any indication, the gap had closed by only a modest margin. But Ochako had always been a glass-half-full kind of girl.

So, after their fourth round, when she had managed to grab his arm in mid-swing, haul him over her shoulder, and slam him to the ground with a short and sharp _smack_ against the training mat, she had been more than a bit pleased with herself.

Bakugou had stood back to his feet slowly, winding out the shoulder she had stretched into oblivion with that last throw, breathing heavily. She had anticipated more of an explosive reaction to the loss, as was his custom, so she'd had no idea what to expect from his eerie calm.

But when the corner of his mouth had twisted upward, scarlet eyes searing with a newly torched flame – a tone brighter than the blood that had trickled out from the gash on his cheek – Ochako had found herself grinning back.

Her defeat after their fifth and final round had done little to dampen her spirit.

"Three o'clock."

"Huh?"

Afterwards, he had caught her outside the locker rooms with that tidbit of info. His vagueness puzzled her, to which he had shot her an irritated look. He had yet to patch up the cut on his cheek.

Burnt orange hues had bled themselves into the sky, falling over the courtyard in a soft, warm haze. A faint sheen of sweat had glistened off his skin, and under the waning sunlight, it had almost looked like he was glowing.

Sadly, his prickly attitude had shattered the rather pleasing image.

"I'll be here tomorrow then. Come or don't come. Just don't expect me to wait on your ass."

With that, he had slung his gym bag over his shoulder and stalked off towards Heights Alliance, deserting her on the empty training grounds.

Odd how neither of them had noticed how Ashido and Kirishima had left hours ago.

For whatever reason, Ochako had lingered a bit longer after he had left. The smarting strain on her muscles had banked into a pleasant burn, and she had felt lighter on her feet, in the fleeting way she sometimes felt just before drifting off into the air.

The battle had ended long ago, and yet her pulse had still been fluttering under her skin.

Perhaps not so unremarkable, after all.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter will be back in the present. I hope the transitions won't be too awkward.

Lemme know what you think. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own _My Hero Academia_ the manga, the anime, or any other projects for the series.

Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka

Genres: Romance, Friendship

Rating: K+ for some coarse language.

 **UPDATE 2/3/2018:** _I added some extra content. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Surge**

* * *

Compared to the hectic pace of their weekdays, Sundays went by like a quiet stroll for the students of Yuuei. Most were either racing the clock to complete last-minute homework or enjoying the few hours of free time left before classes kicked back up the next day.

Ochako was a member of the latter group, content to close off an afternoon of studying and weight training with a little time to herself.

Although, it didn't take long for _that_ plan to go up in flames.

"How is it that you always show up whenever I'm not here?"

"How is it that you never remember to lock your damn door?"

"…Touché."

Silence reigned once more in the closed space of her dorm, punctuated by the labored puffs of breath coming from directly below her. Ochako had her gaze trained on her ceiling, lulled into a trance by the way it zoomed in and out of her vision from the rhythmic motion beneath her. Her hands were folded across her stomach, her back relaxed against the broader, stronger one supporting it.

Up.

Down.

"Hey, Bakugou?"

An acknowledging grunt came from underneath her, followed by a gust of air as he pushed upward again. Ochako straightened her legs a bit, distributing her weight more evenly for him.

Down.

"Are we friends?"

Up.

There was an abrupt pause in his movements, and for a split second she felt his spine stiffen beneath hers. He caught himself quickly though, and fell back into his set at slower pace.

"The hell did that come from?" He asked, voice gruff from the exertion.

She shrugged with feigned nonchalance and fidgeted with her fingers. "Just wonderin', y'know?"

"Well, what the fuck for?"

Irritation colored his tone, a signal to proceed with caution, but Ochako only rolled her eyes. He had been employing this tactic a lot these past few days, deflecting her questions with his own. The impressive well of patience she reserved for him was beginning to run dry from it.

But, another part of her felt a twinge of something else. Was it really such a difficult thing to answer? Her lips flattened into a pensive line.

They saw each other every day, in and out of class. They trained together. They ate lunch together whenever she chanced upon whatever new spot he'd weeded out for himself on the school grounds. He spewed expletives and accused her of Deku-esque stalking each time she found him, but never tried to stop her from sitting with him. He didn't rebuff her offers to trade parts of their meals either. Neither had he attempted to bite her hand off that one time she'd teasingly tried to hand-feed him after he'd injured his arm out on the field, settling for snapping at her to piss off.

Her train of thought halted at that, her mind suddenly conjuring impressions of a cool countertop, of air redolent of crackling oil and fried pastries, and a shared breathing space. A familiar thrumming bloomed to life in her chest, pulsing heatedly under her skin until she felt it creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks.

 _Backtrack,_ she ordered herself, quietly willing _that_ memory away.

"I just..." She swallowed thickly. "Wanna make sure, is all."

Down.

"...of what?"

Up.

 _Whether you feel the same way._

The words popped into her head almost too easily, but the array of wrong ways they could be taken jumbled them in her mind until they spiraled out of her reach.

"It's just – I mean –" Ochako faltered, feeling tongue-tied and restless. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the hand pressed flat against her floor, at the triceps stretching and straining with each forward press. "One sec."

With practiced precision, she lifted herself off him with her quirk, hovering in the space above his back, and feeling the ghosts of his continued movements in the inches between them. Then, she deftly turned herself over and looped her arms around his torso.

Bakugou froze, his head angling sharply over his shoulder at her actions, but Ochako was too preoccupied with not toppling them both to notice. She pressed the pads of her fingers together and gently lowered herself back onto him. He went rigid as her smaller frame hugged his from behind, her curves fitting snugly against the contours of his back, one side of her face cradled in the warm space between his shoulder blades.

"You okay?" She asked softly.

At the sound of her voice, he seemed to snap out of a stupor. An unintelligible grumble was her only response before he resumed his set, slower and with shallower breathing than before. On cue, she unfolded her arms and brought her palms to rest on the arches of his shoulders so that she wasn't in his way.

"Okay," she echoed herself, her breath fanning out against his bare skin. "So, anyway..."

But the words never came. Her voice deserted her for the second time that day, stranding her in another cloud of musings about...well, about _them_.

Up.

Down.

She knew he cooked his own food in the dormitory's kitchenette, instead of ordering from the school cafeteria. She knew of his fondness for spicy dishes, and made a habit of challenging herself by nabbing as many bits of his lunch as she could before her eyes started to water, much to his aggravation. She knew he packed extra of the foods she ended up liking, thinking she didn't notice.

She knew he was as incredible a chef as he was a student and fighter, and that watching him work as either was always a damn sight.

She knew that the tempo of his heart was rapid, but steady beneath her ear – that the lean muscles of his arms and his back contracting with each rise and fall of his body was a feeling more familiar to her than she cared to dwell over.

Unthinkingly, Ochako leaned in further between his shoulder blades. The smooth coldness of a counter and the hiss of oil simmering in the distance flooded her senses again, but this time the sweet aroma was replaced with a heavier musk – a mingling of the scent of smoke, the perspiration dampening the fabric of his tank and the hairs on the back of his neck, and something else. Something strong and unique and distinctively _him_.

She liked it.

" _Well?"_

"Hmm?" Ochako lifted her head, blinking out of an unexpected daze. "Sorry, what?"

"What do you mean 'what'? _You_ were the one talking, dipshit."

A perplexed crease took residence on her brow. _Had_ she been? The last thing she remembered was back muscles, and then everything had gone blank.

"Must've spaced out," she deduced sheepishly.

"Yeah, no kidding," Bakugou muttered unkindly, huffing either in annoyance or from the abrupt rise. Then, in a less than steady voice, "...w-weren't you asking something before?"

Ochako blinked again, catching the faint waver in his voice. "Ah, y-yeah, but –"

"Then spit it out already," he interrupted, impatient. "You're pissing me off."

Instead of obliging, Ochako craned her neck a bit. From her angle, his expression was indiscernible. His eyes were curtained by spiky, sweat-soaked bangs, but she could see how his neck and the side of his face were flushed from the exertion. Yeah, the exertion. Probably.

Definitely.

Gingerly, Ochako settled back between his shoulders, ignoring the tell-tale blush blossoming on her own cheeks.

"Never mind," she whispered and closed her eyes. "It was a silly question."

To her immense relief, he made no further comment.

Down.

Up.

"…Fuck, I lost count."

"Eighty-three."

* * *

A/N: Looks like those pastries *steals Bakugou's shades* aren't the only things heating up.

*is set on fire*

What could have possibly happened? Only the past will reveal (probably not next chapter though, sorry). Hopefully, this pattern keeps going smoothly. Until next time. Thanks for reading!


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